


More Whisper Than Words

by hiddenlongings



Series: Broken Roads [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eating Disorders, Food Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, POV Cullen Rutherford, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: Cullen finds the cold. Problematic. That nasty little voice in his head isn't helping anything either.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Broken Roads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606345
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	More Whisper Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> Cullen is pretty messed up in this story. He denies himself food and deals with a lot of self-loathing and some self-harming behaviors (he punches a wall). Please read the warnings and if you think I've missed anything please let me know.

Cullen finds the cold. 

Problematic. 

Skyhold is a beautiful place; well protected by its isolation and sightlines. However, the mountains also bring with them a shrieking wind that makes Cullen's hands ache and throb and his toes burn. 

His is not a unique problem; most of Skyhold's population has started to add extra layers of clothing. As supplies and coin become more plentiful so does the prevalence of wool and furs. His own mantle of fur does provide some protection but there are only so many layers that he can keep on his extremities without compromising his ability to swing a sword, or work a quill, or walk. 

As he kicks at the ground a little and wraps his arms around his chest Cullen has to admit, if only to himself, that it's not the cold that is currently making him fidget and bringing a rosy hue to his cheekbones. Iron Bull’s predatory circling of the recruit is, ah inspiring, in a way. Cullen feels an inward recoil at the notion before he forces himself to turn on his heel and head back towards his office. It’s a quiet space; far enough away from the Herald’s Rest that he can miss most of the sounds of drunken revelry. 

Not all of course. 

A surprising number of people are willing to stumble quite a distance in order to partake. Cullen has thoughtfully eyed his washbasin a couple of times when a pair has decided that the perfect place to couple is right below one of his windows. Thankfully it is quiet now; the silence a balm against the beginning of (another) lyrium withdrawal headache. He needs a distraction. 

There’s always paperwork; an army may run on its stomach but the food doesn’t arrive without at least a small books worth of parchment. Cullen slowly lowered himself into the chair behind his desk as he looks over the organized chaos. 

There’s the pile for ordering supplies. Another for troop movements. A small section that he mostly tries to ignore of personal letters. Mia’s script has become more forceful; dark splotches of ink where she had pressed too hard with her quill in her frustration. He didn’t want to deal with any of it. A sharp stab of agony behind both eyes makes him press his gloved fingers to his eyelids with firm enough pressure that he starts to see patterns. He should be ashamed of himself honestly, ogling Iron Bull from a distance; though Andraste knows the man probably trained publicly for just that purpose. 

It wasn’t even the rippling muscle. 

Cullen sighed deeply as he forced himself to stop lying at least internally. 

So it wasn’t  _ just  _ the rippling muscle that made Cullen want to trail hopefully after the other man. It was cold enough that everyone else was huddling under bulky clothing and the Qunari was still sauntering around Skyhold shirtless. He looked warm, comfortable not only in the weather but also with his place in the world. 

_ I’m sure he’d adore it if you started clinging.  _

Cullen snarled to himself as he shook a cramping hand out so that he could reach for a quill. 

_ I know the women at the bar fling themselves at you but how would you feel about snuggling up to a grown man?  _

_ Oh Dorian already has you  _ **_well_ ** _ covered?  _

_ The whores are that way you say?  _

Cullen gritted his teeth hard enough that he felt them protest. 

There was another option. 

He’d be comfortably warm and every single one of his symptoms would leave him be as soon as he were to take a sip of Lyrium. So what if he permanently tethered himself to the Chantry; lost his mind again, this time permanently. 

Thankfully the desk was made out of solid enough wood that all it did was quiver when his fist hit the surface with a tremendous crash. No, he would not backslide. It had been months and although the symptoms had seemed to even out he could almost taste Lyrium in the back of his throat. He had left the shipments to the active Templars. 

Avoided that temptation. 

He could avoid this one as well. 

Keep his silly emotions to himself and try to do his damn job. Cullen forced himself to release his grip and let the splintered remnants of the quill, not nearly so sturdy as the desk, fall to the ground with a small whisper of sound.

He felt almost as shattered honestly. 

This war wouldn’t last forever. He knew that. The Inquisitor was a fine leader; Trevelyan would do everything she could to defeat Corypheus. Cassandra had promised to keep an eye on him; to step in if need be. He had enough support to keep working and making a difference. Friendships were unlikely enough. A romantic relationship? 

Cullen felt himself silently scoff as he reached with trembling fingers for a new quill. An impossibility. 

* * *

When he had been young; a child and then an overly confident teenager, sleep had been an easy escape. 

Just lay down on any relatively flat surface and let it take him away. 

Now Cullen found himself avoiding his bed for as long as he reasonably could. Long enough that he would occasionally start awake at his desk some mornings; the ache in his back from the hunched position his punishment for being a coward against the nightmares. 

Not that avoiding his bed really stopped them either. 

Asleep on his desk, in his narrow bed, or (only once thankfully) completely intoxicated and tucked into the lee of a rampart. 

The nightmares were as inescapable as the Veil and no amount of alcohol seemed to sway them and instead left him feeling even  _ more  _ miserable the next morning thanks to his overindulgence. 

Paperwork had at least kept him occupied for most of the evening and Cullen dragged himself with alacrity out of his chilled bed sheets as the first strips of dawn's light struggled to peek around the corners of the hole in his roof. 

There really was no escaping the cold with how exposed he was to the elements, at least he didn’t have any snow to wipe off the top of his blankets this morning. A portion of his mind rationalized that the reason he had left his own lodgings so far down the list of priorities was because he didn’t sleep enough for it to be worth the bother. A smaller; more vicious portion hissed in the background though. 

_ Not worth it.  _

_ Not worthy of it.  _

_ Should have taken a tent among the recruits; even if they did hear you scream.  _

Although to be honest the tent probably would have offered more protection from the weather even if his privacy would have suffered. The stones burned his bare feet as he forced himself to calmly pace to the trunk that he kept pushed against the wall in one of the few protected corners. His breeches pulled up a little too easily over his braies and Cullen had to tighten his belt another notch when he hitched it tight over his hips. 

If he managed to lose any more mass Cullen would have to start punching new holes. His stockings and boots were hastily dragged on so that he could at least try and regain some feeling in his toes. His loose fitted linen shirt didn’t provide much protection from the icy touch of his armor but that would warm up eventually. When he finally pulled on his mantle it felt like he was putting the finishing touches on the mask that he presented to the world. 

Cullen was able to slip down the ladder without incident thankfully and he let himself out onto the ramparts that would lead him to the main hall. The familiar ruff of fur from his mantle brushed his face against the strength of the wind and Cullen let out a breath long and slow to try and keep his thoughts at bay. He watched his frozen breath slip through the air before it dissipated into nothingness. 

Frost dragon. 

Cullen finally let one of the corners of his mouth curl up into a brief smile as he contemplated it. 

Lion of the Inquisition. 

Truth was what you made of it. He would be strong for all of those that could not or would not do so. 

_ Coward  _ the demon may have whispered.

_ Fool  _ it taunted.

Yet here he stood. 

Lyrium free and in possession of almost all of his senses. Time to get through a new day and to see where it would take him. One more huff of breath more from amusement than need and Cullen strode towards breakfast with a sense of anticipation that he hadn’t been able to feign in quite some time. 

The rubble that had been strewn throughout Skyhold as though smacked by an uncaring hand had been slowly gathered up to be used to rebuild and Cullen’s eyes were turned more towards the thought of buttered bread than they were to the grass at his feet. So when his foot caught the side of a piece of forgotten stone Cullen was not expecting the sudden shift of his balance and felt himself stumble a little bit to regain it. 

To his secret shame if it hadn’t been for a strong steadying hand at his shoulder the stumble would have more closely resembled a face plant. Cullen regained his footing quickly; mouth already curling into a self-deprecating smile as he turned to face his savior. 

Any good-tempered banter seemed to curdle in the back of his throat though when he realized who had come to his rescue. 

“The Iron Bull.” 

Cullen could  _ feel  _ himself start to blush and prayed with sudden fierceness that the man would take it as an embarrassment for the near miss. That was part of it of course; but only part, he’d have to tuck deep that hot sharp feeling that had crashed across his chest when he’d met that one warm eye. 

“Cullen! Good to see ya!” Bull crowed happily; not so much as a flash of understanding crossed his face. 

Cullen only felt slightly soothed by the thought, it wasn’t as though Bull was incapable of hiding his own feelings on any number of subjects. The man was a (self-proclaimed) Qunari spy and even if he had been declared Tal-Vashoth that should mean very little to Cullen.

“Where are you running off too?”

“I’ve breakfast on the mind I’m afraid. Not watching my feet.” 

_ Hold it together Rutherford and stop that damnable blushing.  _

Cullen brushed a self-conscious hand through his hair before he thumped companionably at Bull’s shoulder. 

“You could join me.” 

_ Wait. What did you just say?  _

“I’ve heard rumors of fresh butter.” 

_ Shut up. Shut up.  _

“And uh, tea.” He ended weakly. 

_ Fantastic so not only are you clumsy you’re also apparently simple.  _

Booming laughter met Cullen’s weak overture and he tried not to collapse into himself too visibly. 

“Surely not together?” 

“No, no. Cer...certainly not. If you’ll excuse me; I seem to have forgotten some rather urgent paperwork.” 

Cullen turned on his heel and retreated back to his quarters with his head held high and tail firmly tucked between his legs. 

“Cullen? Cullen!?!” 

Cullen fell more than sat down into his chair when he got back to his desk. His hands clenched down and pulled harshly at his hair until the dull aching pain was sharp enough to distract him from the nauseating feeling of embarrassment that even now churned his gut. Bull hadn’t been laughing at the offer. Cullen knew that. He did. Just a laugh at his awkward turn of phrase. 

_ Sniveling little worm.  _

_ Can’t take a joke huh?  _

_ Just going to turn tail and... _

His stomach growled fiercely enough that at least for the moment it tuned out that nasty voice in his head. 

Fresh butter and the company of the other members of the Inquisition were probably a distant hope at this point but Cullen knew for a fact that he had several small caches of food kept up in his quarters for those days when he wasn’t willing to even try and leave his cramped rooms. No use going hungry now when his stomach could tolerate the food. 

When he finally gathered the gumption he needed to get up Cullen had to brace himself against his desk for a long moment as the room began to spin. The ladder looked more menacing than it had any right to at the moment but Cullen pulled himself back up it with gritted teeth. He’d taken to squirreling away food in secret corners once he’d started his recovery from the Tower and the habit had stuck with him in the ensuing years. 

It was hard to remind himself that food was going to be readily available. 

For so long that hadn’t been the case. 

Days and weeks where hunger had dogged his every step until he had begun to eye the leather that made up his gloves with something akin to longing. The hard crackers and wrinkled apple that he found tucked away inside of one of his chests was a lot more appetizing than that at least. 

Nothing had bugs or worms in it that he could see and, though a little mealy, the apple still gave a surprisingly appetizing crunch as he bit into it with vigor. It wasn’t long until all that was left of his small meal were crumbs and the core of the apple, all of which were tossed out of the arrowslit that faced the outer walls of Skyhold. 

The food had calmed Cullen enough that he was able to face heading back down that damnable ladder and out into the courtyard again with something close to equanimity. He still needed to be present for the council meeting if nothing else. Thankfully Bull seemed to spend most of his time at the Herald’s Rest when he wasn’t gallivanting off with the Inquisitor. 

Killing giants. 

Or  **_dragons!_ **

Fool man. 

Cullen made sure to take the long way through the ramparts anyways. No use making a complete fool of himself twice in one day and he’d just have to hope that Bull would be kind enough to leave his missteps both physical and verbal in the past. 

* * *

The speckled light that edged into the courtyard was thankfully diluted enough that Cullen was able to focus on the board in front of him without squinting. He truly enjoyed his games of chess with Dorian and it was one of the few things that could drag him away from (unimportant) paperwork. The mage was a clever man and even when he wasn’t cheating he always put up a valiant effort.

Usually a futile one. 

Cullen had to cover his smirk with one hand as he slipped quietly through a break in Dorian’s defenses and nonchalantly put the other man into checkmate. 

“It appears that I’ve won. Again.” 

“Bah.”

Dorian waved an uninterested hand at the board before he leaned fully back into his seat and eyed Cullen with a speculative look that made Cullen want to shrink back into his armor. That look never portended anything good in his experience.

“A silly pastime. I don’t know why I ever let you convince me to partake.” 

“I’d always imagined it was because you enjoyed cheating almost as much as a true victory.” 

“Preposterous.” 

Dorian straightened an already immaculate mustache with a twirl of his fingers. 

“Even if I cheat it’s still winning.” 

Cullen felt his eyebrows start to head towards his hairline and he opened his mouth to protest  _ that  _ particular claim when a sudden shadow fell across the board. 

“Hey, guys!”  Bull’s voice was ebullient,  “You would not believe what I got!”

Dorian’s voice went flat and monotone even though his eyes lit up when he looked up at his lover. 

“One can hardly imagine. A book with dirty pictures? Free beer?” Dorian closed his eyes dramatically. “No, no don’t tell me.  _ Vishante Kaffas _ . Did you find another thrice-damned dragon!?! It had better be dead this time!” 

“Hah! No.” 

Bull looked nearly dreamy eyed as he looked wistfully at the sky for a moment. 

“That would have been great too though! Actually I found you both a present.”

Bull’s smile was bright and it looked like he was going to respect Cullen’s apparently blatant wish that his most recent embarrassment be completely ignored. Although it was odd that Bull would give him a… 

“Present?” 

Cullen asked softly as he forced himself to roll a rook between his hands so that he’d have something to keep his eyes on. 

“Surely you mean for Dorian.” 

“Nope, I meant for both of you. Dagna’s been having me do a little bit of collecting for some of her more, uh, interesting, creations and she asked me what I’d want in return. So I got you both a pair of sigils.” 

Cullen fought desperately against an instinctive recoil when Bull dropped a pair of small metallic brooches to the table with a clink. Dorian at least didn’t flinch but he did give the two magically imbued objects a suspicious poke before he picked up the one that had landed near him. 

“That’s ever so...thoughtful. What exactly are these trinkets supposed to do?” 

“They’ve got warming runes on them.” 

Bull’s voice had lost some of his excitement but it had transmuted into something warmer as he reached a hand out to cover Dorian’s exposed shoulder with a gentle hand. 

“I know how cold the two of you get around here; since apparently layers are for other people, big guy.” Bull shrugged easily. “I know I run hot but I hate seeing you guys shiver when I can figure out a way to help.” 

Cullen forced himself to relinquish his chess piece so that he could pick up the brooch with a hesitant glance at Bull to confirm that it was okay for him to grab. Bull nodded encouragement and Cullen could feel the heat of the thing even through his gloves. 

It was small enough that he’d have no problem hiding it in the folds of his clothing and it seemed a harmless kindness. Though one that saw too deeply into Cullen for him to feel comfortable with the gift. He’d never complained of the cold to Bull or Dorian in his time at Skyhold; no matter how much it pained him. Everyone was viscerally  _ aware  _ of the cold. There was little use in complaining about something that no one could change; but Bull had apparently seen it affect him more than it did the others. 

Still he hadn’t received any sort of a present in probably over a decade and he’d be churlish to reject it. 

“Thank you Bull. That’s very kind of you.” 

Cullen forced himself to look up and meet the Qunari’s eye fully for the first time since he had joined them. 

“Very thoughtful.” 

Bull’s face softened even further and gave a friendly thump of his free hand between Cullen’s shoulder blades. Even through the armor Cullen felt the reverberations keenly. 

“No problem at all, hope it helps.” 

Cullen looked over the small piece of jewelry intently as he let his fingers twist it this way and that in the light so that he could take it in. The piece was relatively plain, thankfully, nothing too feminine about it to be out of place with his regular equipment. It looked like the brooch was made of silver and the sigil that Dagna had placed on the jewelry was utilitarian. It didn’t have any extra swoops or flourishes that might have made it more attractive but which would have gone against the effectiveness of the piece.

Except.

Cullen let his eyes narrow a little as he felt his thumb catch against some small irregularity in the surface. He had to bring it more fully into the light away from Bull’s shadow but he was finally able to see the small stamp that had been placed in the bottom right corner beneath the rune. 

It was a lion rampant; it’s silhouette flung back on hind legs with its front paws showing unsheathed claws and its mouth open in a threatening snarl. 

“For the Lion of Ferelden.” 

Cullen felt his cheeks heat with that damnable blush that he had absolutely no control over. When he ducked his head low to hide some of his embarrassment it gave Dorian an opportunity to snatch the brooch out of his hands. His bare fingers were significantly more dexterous with the small piece of metal than Cullen’s gloved digits had been. 

Cullen looked up quickly his eyes darkening and hand clenching into a fist before he could stop himself. He wrenched himself back forcibly into his chair almost as quickly as he had started to snarl at the mage. 

Dorian wasn’t a thief, stealing from him, nor was he an enemy liable to mock him for his reaction. 

Well, he would definitely mock Cullen but not from any sort of malevolence. 

The man didn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Cullen’s trust was thankfully rewarded when Dorian gently slid his own brooch across the table so that he could take a closer look at the piece that had obviously been made for the mage. 

Just a swap to satisfy Dorian’s curiosity than; not a man jealous that his lover had given another person a present. Dorian’s brooch appeared to be nearly identical to Cullen’s. They were made of the same materials and had the same rune carved into them; the only difference was in the image that had been stamped on its corner. Dorian’s stamp was a little more abstract than Cullen’s lion and it took a couple of shifts in the light for Cullen to fully grasp the imagery. 

“A two headed snake?” 

“A symbol of my ancestry.” 

Dorian’s smile was warm though so Bull must not have hit on too sore of a point. Dorian imperiously tugged the hand that had been covering his bared shoulder until Bull leaned down willingly enough to receive a peck on the check. 

“As always Amatus you bring me the most interesting presents. Thank you.” 

Dorian offered the brooch he had stolen back to Cullen who gamely swapped them before he tugged his tabard loose enough that he could slip the sharp pin through the stiff fabric. His still gloved fingers foiled him again though and Cullen couldn’t get enough of a grip on the small clasp to open it. A couple moments of fumbling attempts were enough to break Cullen’s patience and he kept one hand wrapped around the brooch while he brought his other hand to his mouth so that he could pull the glove off with his teeth. 

A sharp tug brought the leather free and his added dexterity was worth the sudden chill that seemed to slip so easily into his fingers joints these days. They ached painfully but Cullen had ignored worse and he caught his glove as he dropped it from his mouth and placed it on the table. A quiet gasp brought Cullen’s eyes up with sudden awareness of his boorish behavior.

Dorian’s face was impassive enough that Cullen would have thought he had misheard that intake of breath if it weren’t for the way that Dorian’s pupils had expanded turning his eyes nearly black. Cullen could feel the rush of heat to his face as he took in the man’s sudden arousal. 

For a moment he let himself believe...but then Cullen noticed that Bull’s hand had mysteriously disappeared from Dorian’s shoulder. 

_ Idiot.  _

Cullen shook himself free of his sudden mortification and focused all of his attention on placing the brooch with his now free hand. That insidious whisper had an icy mockery to it now that even the magically imbued brooch couldn’t reach. 

_ Thought that one would want you anymore than Bull?  _

_ They’ve got each other. _

_ They deserve each other.  _

_ You?  _

_ You don’t deserve their consideration.  _

_ Just as easy probably to make one brooch as two. _

_ An afterthought.  _

_ A gift given out of pity and courtesy you pathetic little  _ **_weakling._ **

Cullen slipped his glove back on as quickly as he could; though the brooch was already doing its job and he could feel it buffering the wind that creeped through the courtyard even on a relatively warm day. Cullen regained his feet in what he hoped was a nonchalant move that started to lead him back towards the ramparts. 

“Thank you again Bull. I’m feeling warmer already. Dorian my thanks for a challenging game. I’m afraid I have a meeting that I am about to run late too. Good day.” 

He gave a short bow that came up a little bit shorter than politeness indicated but his chest felt too tight with his feelings to complete the move. Dorian’s mouth opened in some sort of protest but Cullen had already begun to head back towards his quarters. The words weren’t loudly spoken but the wind seemed to bring them right to Cullen’s ears as he strode away. 

“Well my footsies are fine now at least; hopefully Cullen’s will be too.” 

Bull’s responding sigh was heartfelt and full of some sort of (fond?) exasperation. “If he ever stops long enough to notice what with all of the running away from me he’s been doing. I’m kind of starting to take it personally.” 

Cullen’s hands clenched hard into fists again as he slammed through the nearest door to get him out of the courtyard. 

_ Such a lovely way to thank him for being so  _ **_kind_ ** _ to think of us.  _

_ He’s noticed what a coward you are now.  _

_ Hah!  _

_ He’s probably always known.  _

_ What are you going to do now oh great Lion of Ferelden?  _

_ Let him think you distrust him because he’s a Qunari?  _

_ Because he loves another man?  _

_ Because he doesn’t love  _ **_you_ ** _?  _

Cullen snarl was low and rumbling and he punched the stone wall that he was standing next to with a vicious crash that bloodied his knuckles and snapped pain all the way up to his shoulder. “Fuck.” Gritting his teeth and pulling his hair Cullen let himself fall against the wall with a clatter and fell down to the floor in a controlled slump as he tucked his head between his knees. 

“Shut up.” His voice was more whisper than words. “Shut up. Shut up.”


End file.
